


came the last night of sadness

by alexandrawest



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: F/M, Runaway AU, Sad, jeankasa - Freeform, jeankasaweek 2014
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-07
Updated: 2014-12-07
Packaged: 2018-02-28 13:15:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,347
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2733947
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alexandrawest/pseuds/alexandrawest
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>he was a runaway, and so was she. together they found something special. (or maybe he's stupid, maybe it all was ordinary) AU</p>
            </blockquote>





	came the last night of sadness

Mikasa hadn’t decided to travel the country in an ugly car that was far too old with a boy who spoke far too much. It had just kind of happened. Somewhere between home and the midst of Ohio she had run into him; a tall boy with an awkward smile and a weird undercut. They hadn’t decided to continue their travel together, it had, like stated before, just happened. They were both runaways _(whose family surely wouldn’t miss them)_ alone in a town where people spoke with a funny accent and Sunday church was their idea of fun.

  
Sometime between Wednesday night and Thursday morning, they almost met in an old diner that was empty apart from the old lady behind the counter. Her nametag said Maudree and her hair was a poofy mess that smelled of ashes and grease, a combination that smelled like something from Jeans childhood _(He would later remember that his grandma had smelled the exact same way, and he would also remember how secure her hug felt when his father and mother were found dead on that fateful Sunday 12 years ago)._  
Jean asked Maudree for a cup of coffee, and then sat down by a table in a corner, his back against the door. If he had sat the other way, facing the door, he would have seen Mikasa walk in with a bored expression and silently order a coffee with two sugars. If he hadn’t been so focused on reading the newspaper in front of him, he would have felt her eyes on his neck and turned around. None of this happened though, instead Jean continued reading about the chicken that had laid a giant egg and Mikasa drank her coffee before walking out into the rainy night.

It wasn’t until Friday night that they met on a road leading up to nowhere unless you could read a map from 1953 ( _Jean always took pride in being a good map reader. After his grandma died, no one really cared about the pride he took in such a simple thing)_. Jean was sitting in his 1966 Ford Mustang that’s so rusty it’s embarrassing, driving to another nameless town with a cheap motel, when he saw her. A skinny girl with black jeans, a black leather jacket and black hair, who was standing on the side of the road. He pulled down next to her, and couldn’t help but to feel bad for her, standing there in the cold rain. _(What he didn’t know was that she liked standing in the rain, for her it was an escape from feeling anything)_

“Do you need a ride?” the question was simple, and the answer was too. No one worried if the other one was a psychopath _(he later thinks he should have)_  
“Yeah” she said with a careful smile. She sat down next to him and took a good look at him. He was really tanned, and he had kind eyes. Kind eyes were a rarity in Mikasa’s world, and she just knows that he is one of the good guys.  
“Where to?”  
“Anywhere.”  
They drove all night, and not once did she shut up. Mikasa didn’t mind though; it was nice with someone who talked and kept their mood up. At some point she falls asleep, but not even then does he shut up. He just starts humming to some song that she doesn’t remember ever hearing before _(He will later tell her that the song is called don’t fear the reaper, and she thinks the name is horrible until he sings it to her and she admits to him that she finds the idea of death beautiful.)_

 

They kiss for the first time in Iowa. They couldn’t afford a motel, so they decide to sleep in the backseat of his car. It’s cold inside the car, so they have to share a blanket, and lay really close to each other.

“Hey” he said, voice barely a whisper. She looked up, and he noticed how dark her eyes were, and how her long lashes threw shadows on her pale cheeks. She looks so small next to him, and it’s funny, because he has never before thought of her as small. In his eyes, she’s a great force, powerful, beautiful.

“Hi” she answered after a few seconds. She looks like there’s something she wants to stay, but she doesn’t. Like always, he does the talking.  
“We really need to get money” she mutters through clattering teeth. She doesn’t answer, so he continues. “I’m not sure what I could do… I suck at poker. I don’t-“  
“I’m good at stealing” she interrupts him. He doesn’t know what to say, he only know that he doesn’t like the idea.  
“I don’t think you should do that” he answers, trying to sound casual, when really he is terrified. He’s got enough problems with the law as it is.  
“Do you have a better idea?” she asks, and stares into his eyes. In that moment, he sees something glimmer in her eyes. He doesn’t think about it; suddenly her lips are on his, hard and demanding (he later realizes how odd it was of her to kiss him, right there, without any reason).  
They kiss for a long time, exploring each other’s mouths, tasting each other’s tongues. It’s awkward at first, but then it gets better, and he’s sure that he hears her moan. She falls asleep with her lips against his throat _(he thinks it’s somewhat symbolic, her mouth against his pulse)._  
The next morning neither one of them mention the kiss. They drive to another town that God has forgotten about, and she pickpocket’s fifteen persons, earning them over 200 bucks. He’s happy that they can finally afford a good night’s sleep, and he tries not to think about the people who got their wallets stolen.

 

“Why are you running away?” he asks, even though they had a silent agreement of never, ever asking or mentioning their stories and reasons behind leaving home.  
“My rapist is getting out of prison, and my parents think it is okay that he’s moving back in with us” she answers, eyes on the road and voice cold like ice.  
“Wha-“  
“He’s my uncle.”  
Jean doesn’t answer, nor does he ever ask again. They continue the journey in silence, and Jean finds himself wondering how much shit the young girl next to him has gone through. _(Mikasa doesn’t tell him that her real parents died when she was 5, that her adoptive parents never really loved her or that her uncle used her for his sick pleasure for four years before she told her adoptive mother. She certainly doesn’t tell him that her parents blamed her for everything that had happened.)_

They had been travelling for two weeks when they gave in to their feelings. Outside of a small town somewhere in Nebraska, the silence is two seconds too long and she leaned in a bit too close and they were both a bit too sad. His mouth crashed onto hers, greedily tasting her tongue and lips, and holfyfuckinshithell she tasted like heaven and promises of a better tomorrow. When he pushed is hands inside her underwear, she let out a small moan and spread her legs, giving him permission to go further. He slipped a finger inside her wet folds, her mouth opened in a small oh and he almost came in his pants right then and there. Her cheeks flushed pink and lips swollen from kissing, she looked like a goddess. The moonshine made the pale skin on her round breasts look even paler, and he was sure that she was the most beautiful thing he had ever laid eyes on.  
“I want to be on top” she whispers and he nods before sitting down on the blanket that they have spread on the ground, and the cold night makes him suck in a breath. She sits down slowly, sinking down on him inch by inch and Jean’s sure that this, this right here, is heaven. His hands grab her ass hard enough to bruise, and he starts guiding her movements. Her ass slaps hard against his thighs and everything feels so hot and wet and-

Jean comes with a groan inside her. It’s a bit too fast, he knows that she didn’t come, and it feels awkward and sloppy and just plain rude of him, but she doesn’t seem to mind. She just smiles and gets up, correct the hem of her dress and walks back to the car.

“We need to stop at some gas station, I feel sticky.” She says and he bites his lip because it’s his semen that’s spreading on her thighs and making her feel sticky ( _it’s so dirty and perverted for him to think it’s hot, so he shuts up and follows her to the car.)_

They have been on the road for four weeks when she breaks the unwritten rule and asks him what he’s running away from. He shrugs and for the first time she feels uncomfortable in her company.  
“I, uh, I’m not sure. I guess I’m just a pussy” he lets out a dry laugh before continuing “I got into some trouble back home… Messed with the wrong guys, people you don’t want to mess with you know and-“he stops, not sure how to continue. How do you tell someone that you used to sell drugs, that you used drugs? How do you explain to someone that you OD’d once, and that you used up everything you were supposed to sell on the streets and thanks to this have a whole gang that’s after your ass? Jean doesn’t know what to tell her, so he keeps quiet, and she doesn’t ask any more questions _(Jean doesn’t know that she already knew something, that she saw the marks on the crook of his arm and understood his past)._

Their daily life continues in a way that’s comfortable for them. He drives in the mornings, and she drives in the evenings. They stop at random bars, she steals, and he drinks. They find a motel and drink some more. They always end up fucking, and he finally learns what she sounds like when she comes. She starts smoking again, and he doesn’t mind, he actually enjoys the way her mouth tastes after she’s smoked. One night she whispers something to him, but he falls asleep before understanding what she has to say. When he asks her in the morning, she says she doesn’t remember. Their life isn’t anything close to normal, but neither one of them really knows what normal is. How can you miss something you’ve never had? In a way, they’re living in their own bubble. In that bubble there’s only her and him, and promises whispered on bruised skin. It’s like a dream.

  
  
Sadly, every dream must come to an end.

 

 

The police breaks into their motel room in Idaho, close to the Canadian border. He thinks they’re there for him, he’s sure of it, but to his surprise they pull up Mikasa from bed, yanking her to go with them. She stands up on wobbly legs, dressed in nothing but a thin top and underwear. She doesn’t put up a fight when they take her to their car, just looks at him and whispers an apology ( _It’s the look in her eyes that kill him though, never has anyone looked so sad and helpless)_

“Mikasa Ackerman, you are arrested for the murder of Kenny Ackerman.”

He understands. He knows, without anyone telling him, that she murdered her uncle. He understands and feels stupid for not understanding earlier.  
  
The bubble has burst, the dream has ended. She ends up in a prison in Georgia, he ends up moving to Arkansas. He finds a job, nothing grand, but he manages. He finds new friends, and he lives a life that most would call normal. He even gets himself a dog. But no matter what he does, he can never shake the feeling away of not belonging. When his friends talk about college, he looks out, thinking about the things he did while they studied. He snaps out of it as Marco, his new friend, smacks him playfully in the back.  
“Hey, what were you thinking of buddy?” Marco laughs “You really zoned out for a second.”  
Jean doesn’t answer, he just smiles. How can you explain to someone that you though back at the two months you spent with a girl, too amazing for this world? _(You can’t)_

 

 

 

He visits her in prison once. It’s spring outside, but inside, no seasons exist. It’s all grey, and he can’t help but to think that this isn’t a place for a girl like her. He sits down in front of her, tries to smile. She looks alright, even if orange really isn’t her colour. She tells him about her day, and he tells her about his new life. She smiles, but he can see the sadness in her eyes. He thinks of her like a bird, trapped in a cage, unable to fly away to the freedom she yearns.  She doesn’t accuse him for waiting so long for visiting her. He doesn’t accuse her for not telling him about the crime she committed. When they part, she hugs him, and he hugs her back, unsure what to say. It isn’t until he gets back to his car that he notices stains on his shirt. _(Tears, he understands.)_

 

She kills herself on month later. He isn’t surprised, just sad. He stays inside the whole day, crying, even though he promised himself never to do that. His dog tries to lick his tears, tries to comfort him, but nothing helps. He cries until his throat feels raw and his eyes are too dry and it hurts to blink. He sits on the floor in silence, and suddenly he remembers what she whispered to him on that night, so long ago;

 

One day I’ll fly away, and I’ll be truly happy

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> This is my contribution to jeankasa week ! Sadly I didn't have time to complete the other prompts, but if you'd like, I might do some of them. Let me know what you think.


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